I'm so obsessed with your writing (>⩊<) Can you please make one of dilf Chris… re8 or death island, being a needy husband after a mission and just wanting to spend the whole night with his beloved wife in bed yk yk yk (I just need this man)
tags: dilf ! chris, fem bodied reader, fingering, overstim, dumbification, chris is PUSSY WHIPPPEDDDDDD, lovey dovey porn . . fluff, silliness, a hint of domesticity :3
the highlight of dilf! chris’s day is always when it’s about to end—ironic, yes—when he steps into your shared home and the scent of you and your cooking greets him and his nostrils. it wouldn’t be long before small, hurried steps rush over to him, clinging onto his built leg.
“da-da!” she’s weightless, your daughter, raised in the air like a trophy as chris holds her in his arms. “honey, i’m home,” stereotypical. cliche. but it felt good saying it. after all, chris never thought he’d be able to have anyone to say that to. “i can tell, baby,”
after your daughter comes you. his beloved wife, his dream girl—peeking through the kitchen. “hey, beautiful,” he’s already striding, impatient. chris can’t wait to hold both of his girls in his arms. you take in your husband’s familiar scent of gunpowder and bourbon. chris kisses your forehead.
“you’re just in time for dinner. c’mon,” this—this small gathering, this catch up—was the beginning. he loved to listen after a long day at work ordering people. chris intently listened while your daughter explained her A+ drawing. “mhm? what about this, baby? what’s this . . orange looking thing?” “oh, so that’s . . ” his big hand rests atop yours, caressing your ringed finger. squeeze. chris's very own way to give you attention while he's lending an ear to your yapping daughter. another squeeze. i love you.
the night progresses faster than he expected. before he even realizes it, your baby girl's fast asleep, the dishes are clean and put away, and locks are double-checked right before the lights are shut off.
and the both of you? well.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ ──
"i really missed you,"
his lips ghost your shoulder blade, puling your frame close as he spoons you. this moment, you, the family you gave him—this is what he lives for. what keeps him going.
"i missed you too, baby," his hand, clasped by yours, is brought to your lips as you leave kisses on his scarred knuckles. "i need you . . " there's no mistaking the erection grinding against your rear, or the now-free hand groping your breast.
"you have me,"
the kisses trail up your neck, and you're soon laid on your back as chris hovers atop you. the second your eyes meet, you're both closing the interstice between your bodies—lips meeting, arms cradling each other.
"mhhf,"
tongue greets tongue, and chris can't stop touching you, feel your warmth, your curves, under his palm. he missed this—yes, even though he comes to you almost every night. his cock's poking through his boxers, shamelessly rubbing himself on your inner thighs.
you break away, panting, lips glistening with mixed spit. chris doesn't hesitate to shift his kisses elsewhere. cheek. jawline. neck. "i wanna taste you, y/n," you can hear him hiss when your smaller palm cradles his bulge—eliciting a chuckle from you.
"but you just got home from work. aren't you tired?"
"for you?"
you both giggle, and chris buries his face in the crook of your neck again.
"never, baby. besides, when has that been an issue?" okay, touché—back then, before you two got married, he didn't even get rid of his gear first or wait 'til you both got in the bedroom.
for you, he always had the time and the energy. especially when it was to delve his tongue in between creamy folds.
and that's exactly how you find yourself. panties hanging from your ankle, digits interlaced together as he held your hands, built arms hooked around your thighs.
you tried your very best to keep it down, to stifle your moans. under different circumstances, you would've let these noises echo in your bedroom. but for now—
"shh, shh, baby,"
chris taunts, like he's not fuckin' brushing his nose against your clit, like his tongue wasn't jus' lapping up your twitching slit. "chris," you squeezed his hand. he only hummed, gliding his tongue up 'n down your pretty hole before lettin' it slide in you.
this is the only rare time you're thankful he lets go of your hand, because the moment a thumb began to caress your clit, you're slapping a palm on your mouth, to suppress the louder moans that dare come out.
if only chris could see you—you with your arched back, eyes lidded and brows scrunched up—it would have triggered something feral in him for sure. but he's too occupied, eyes closed while he savours your sweet taste, his favourite meal.
"mmmf,"
his colleagues said that he would eventually get tired of his wife, that he deserved to taste and feel something new. but they couldn't be more wrong. you were just as delicious. maybe even more delicious with the fact that you were his wife.
the pleasure stops, jus' for a bit. this gives you time to take a quick breather. "you okay?" chris peers up at you. you can faintly see his silhouette under the moonlight. "mhm, mhm. 'm just trying to keep quiet,” his deep chuckle buzzes against your skin.
"well, you gotta try harder." cheeky. you pinch his hand and he only lets out a playful yelp. in return, his lips envelop your clit—suckling hard. you almost squeal, immediately back to covering your mouth with your palm. he doesn't stop there, sliding a thick digit into your cunt and barely waiting for you to adjust to his phalange as he begins to piston it in and out of your dripping hole.
he was right—you did need to try harder. because, fuck—the noises easily slip past your lips, all thanks to his tongue and fingers that worked fucking wonders. "h, hnn—, chris . . " you groan. there's no mistaking the familiar tightening in your stomach. your hips grind against him, his face as you ache for more. aural confirmation wasn't needed, not right now, when your body said enough. chris only hums, gaze fixed on you and only on you. he adores how your body compensates for the lack of verbal expressions, fuuuuck . .
his hand breaks free from your grasp, only to caress your stomach and squeeze your tummy in his big hand. you were such a good wife to him—taking care of him and giving him the family he wanted—oh my god, his cock was leaking in his trousers.
it's like something feral has set off in him, and despite the fatigue in not just his arm and jaw—but his whole body, too—he wants nothing but to bring his wife—you—to your well-deserved peak. be a good husband as he should.
"oh, chris—♡,"
you whimpered softly, vox not above a shout. both hands cradle his head, sometimes tugging on soft, short hair, while you bite on your lower brim to suppress these filthy noises. "'m close," you whine, but he only wordlessly nods, allowing his jaw some respite as his tongue begins to swirl on that sensitive bud. he adds a second digit—and it slides in easily with the help of the mess he made. you and chris both let out restrained groans.
the coil in your stomach jus' gets stronger 'n more palpable, with thick digits ramming in and out of you so mercilessly.
there's not much of a choice but to succumb to this pleasure, letting those pretty eyes roll back, your palm muting every whimper as your hips grind against him. another stroke of his fingers, you're gushing—back beautifully arched as you make a mess all over his face and digits. chris doesn't complain—will never complain—lapping you up so eagerly.
"mmh, fuck,"
sweet—too sweet. nothing will ever satiate this greed of his. chris hungrily caresses your body, every trembling part of you greeted with the warmth of his palm and a squeeze. "oh, chris," you softly whine, letting your hand rest upon his.
chris begins to cover your thighs in kisses, stubble brushing against your soft skin. it wasn't long 'til he's made his way up to your abdomen, leaving kiss after kiss after kiss before he hiked up higher to your breasts, collarbone, jaw . .
"hey, handsome,"
his cheek is nicely cradled, a thumb caressing his face as you both chuckle. "hey, gorgeous," he pecks your lips, but can’t help himself from devouring them. his tongue tastes like you. your legs find themselves wrapped around his waist, closing any gap between your bodies and letting his still-clad bulge press against your dripping cunt.
"you're so beautiful, mrs. redfield," chris says once your lips have parted. "uh-huh. you sayin' that t'get in my pants?" you coo, reaching over to tug on his boxers. "clearly, it's working."
chris sits up for a moment, raising one leg and resting it on his chest. not even your ankle—leg, actually—was safe from his kisses, other hand completely pulling his boxers down; his leaking cock springing free.
"i love you so much,"
"i love you too . . "
holding his cock by the base, he slaps the thick girth atop your cunt. you can hear just how wet you still are with every audible collision. soon, it was his tip rubbing against your slit, lathering his crown with your juices.
"put it inn," you huff, and chris only smiles at your impatience. as requested, the tip sinks into your folds. a sound blooms—slick, obscene—showing just how badly you needed and wanted your husband.
"you're so wet," a groan leaves his lips as he hovers atop you, taking a thigh with him and letting it press against your chest. he loves watching your eyes flutter as he further stretches you out. "oh, fu—," a palm is clamped over your mouth, immediately silencing your loud moans. he can't really blame you, because he was havin' trouble keeping himself quiet, too.
"shh, shh, b, baby,"
chris whines like he isn’t slamming himself into you with a single push of his hips. how couldn't you moan, when the tip of his cock presses against your fucking cervix? it always surprises you how big and how thick he is, and judging at the look on chris's face, it surprises him too.
"so tight—fuck, oh my god,"
he drags himself out, slowly and carefully, but the instant he plunges himself back into you, something jus' snaps and he can't fucking control himself, can't stop—won't stop fucking you. chris lifts his hand, jus' so he can rest them on the sides of your head. you're not sure if it's a good idea; it was harder to contain your moans, more than ever.
"chris—oh, fuck. feels good," you whimper, not daring to look away from your husband's face. "yeah? love my cock, baby?" you could only nod, distrustful of your mouth. "me too—me too. love you. love your pussy," chris is rambling, mindless praise slipping fro his mouth without proper thought. he keeps pounding you, making sure every thrust leaves you fucking stuffed. your whole body rocked, wood softly and subtly groaning under the weight of it all.
every thrust leaves you breathless and slack-jawed, and chris, ever the opportunist, crashes his mouth on yours; his tongue moving on its own, and invading your mouth. you couldn't catch your breath—not when you gladly returned his messy kiss.
"mhfff,"
mewled his wife—you—while you lewdly sucked on his tongue, indifferent with the saliva that smeared on your skins. a breather between reckless movements; you're granted a lungful when chris pauses. whatever logical, lucid thoughts he might've had are long, long gone now, consumed by the need to fuck you and make you feel so, so good.
a hand rises to guide your leg higher, completely folding you in half, body pliant 'neath his built frame. this was the favourite position chris loved having you in. he had the perfect view of your wide - eyed, fucked out look whilst feeling how your cunt lovingly clenched and sucked him in.
"you're so pretty, my pretty wife . . " he mutters, beginning to pummel into you again. you can't do anything but take it and leave crimson crescents on his biceps. "chris—fuckfuckfuck," you sobbed. it was taking everything in you to not scream his name like you usually did.
he was so—
"fucking deep . . ♡,"
each brush of his fat cock over your most sensitive spot makes your eyes roll, overwhelming pleasure making your legs quake and weak. "i k, know, sweetheart. i know. you can t, take it." he murmurs mindlessly, tongue lapping up at the spit on your chin. "my good wife. you're m, my good wife,"
his familiar timbre is thick with need and adoration, and despite it barely being above his room voice, you can hear how wrecked and desperate he is.
"y, y/n—you're so g, good t'me. fuuuck, fuuuck, look at you. so p, pretty,"
"chris . . h, haaah—, you feel so so good—♡!"
yes, it had been a long day at work. stressful. tiring. but he could never ever be too tired for you. especially for you, and it shows through the way he fucked you. hard. fast. like every muscle in his body didn't ache with fatigue.
chris drives himself in to the fucking hilt, staying in place and barely moving, forcing you to feel every inch of his throbbing girth, forcing you to feel the ring of cream that circled his base, that tip kissing your perky cervix. "so fucking p, proud of you, sweetheart. taking me like this. all mine, mine . . " you don't just feel like paradise. you are his paradise.
"chris—," was perhaps the few things you could properly mutter. "love you so much. i love you . . h, hnngg—breed me. give m, me your cum," chris watches as your hand drifts between your sweaty silhouettes, settling right above your tryst and beginning gentle circles on your puffy clit.
god, you're so fucking wet, and chris begins to pound you again—harsher 'nd meaner than ever. "my needy girl—d, do you wanna cum? cum on this dick, baby?" "yesyesyesyes, oh fuck. you f, fuck me so good, chris—♡," his balls are aching from the praise. it's hard to multitask, when you can barely think for yourself. and even moreso when—
"s, sucha good husband to me—i love being y, your wife—♡!"
and the feeling of him flooding your cunt was unmistakable. your husband's fucking salivating, filling your cunt to the brim as he cums—a little too early. "d, did you—," "mhm, m, mhm . . " overstimulation is quickly settling in, but his hips don't stop. he can't stop.
his brows are scrunched upward, temples glistening with sweat as he whimpers, body trembling as he continued to fuck you through his orgasm. "baby—b, baby—oh god. oh, fuck." he stuttered. "p, please cum. pleasepleasepleaseplease. s, so sensitive—," chris babbled, brushing your hand clumsily to the side. "no, noo . . l, let meee . . " he choked out, replacing your fingers with his own. he knew just where to touch you, how much pressure he should press against that clit.
he's twitching inside you, cock sensitive 'n swollen. each push in of his hips, each kiss of his tip on your cervix is making him gasp and shudder. "chriiiiis—you're g, gonna make me cuuum,"
chris claims your plump brims in another liplock—though, he's barely kissing you, only pulling your tongue in his mouth as he sucks on the wet appendage feverishly.
"mmphfh . . ♡!"
he jus' wants to make his wife feel good, make her feel so pretty 'n adored. didn't matter if his forearm ached with enervation, or his hips burned for respite. your needs come first, always first, before his, and anything else.
it only takes a rough pinch to your clit before you're cumming undone—hips bucking against him as you gush messily, sobbing and soaking him, yourself, 'n the sheets. ensuring your secrecy and silence, chris completely devours your lips, swallowing any loud scream that dared to reverberate 'round your room.
and it takes him aback—a second orgasm making his eyes fucking water. he's cumming so, so much, filling your womb and your cunt 'til it leaked down your ass. he's so sensitive it hurts.
chris slams into you with brutal force, hips crashing down at his full weight and pinning you in place. he coaxes another orgasm, makin' you squirt in small, uncontrollable streams. you're so fucked out—can't even think straight. you can only cling on to chris as you tremble, lips mashing messily with his as you both ride out your aftershocks.
he pulls away before he completely crushes you, easing your legs down slowly 'til both your feet were planted on the bed. "y, you okay?" chris asked, palms roaming your shivering body—thighs, hips, waist—and kneading potential sore spots. "m, mhm. tired," tired was an understatement. felt like your limbs were sinkin' into the bed from how heavy they felt.
"you?"
"good. never better."
he slips out with a languid drag, already missin' the warmth of your cunt by the time he completely withdrew from you. a tongue glissades over his lips, watching your gaping cunt twitch as cum drips from it almost immediately. "you came a lot," you tease, and chris feels the warmth in his cheeks bloom.
"you were so sexy, baby." he pecks your cheek right before capturing your lips in a gentle, sweet kiss, albeit short-lived. "mm. let's get you cleaned up," chris gets up—tries to, anyway—but his legs give out almost immediately, you didn't even have the chance to blink.
"chris! are you okay?!"
"i, i'm fine!"
end.
a/n: thank you for reading! and thank you to my beta readers for lending an extra hand!
